


Of Blizzards and Ugly Coats

by Maizeysugah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5839753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maizeysugah/pseuds/Maizeysugah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having rescued Auror Harry Potter from drowning shortly after he escaped from Limbo, Lord Voldemort now finds himself being rescued by his nemesis himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Blizzards and Ugly Coats

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Moonlight and Crimson](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505694) by [Maizeysugah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maizeysugah/pseuds/Maizeysugah). 



> This is a companion piece to Moonlight and Crimson, a one-shot I wrote for a challenge several years ago. I wanted to post something sweet and harmlessly romantic shortly before St Valentine's Day.

Harry crawled toward the cabin, barely conscious, but at least he survived. He was alive. Being a wizard made him slightly less vulnerable to death from natural disasters; witches and wizards being more resilient than typical humans. But he was hurt, badly injured and knowing Lord Voldemort was crawling toward the cabin behind him did not deter him from his goal. The Dark Lord looked worse than him; there was blood pouring out of any opening he had, newly given or born-with.

Not too long ago the shoe was on the other foot; Lord Voldemort found himself rescuing his enemy from freezing to death or drowning, whatever happened to come first. “Potter, you get back here and help me,” the Dark Lord ordered, as he withered in the deep snow. He could not stay on top of it any longer and begging his nemesis for help seemed natural; he felt no shame in doing it, as his own life was so important. If it were Dumbledore himself, he would have begged for help, knowing the sodding bleeding-heart would turn around and drag him into the cabin. Harry was no different. He watched the young man shift around and head back toward him.

Harry’s blurry eyes followed the bright red trail of blood the Dark Lord was making behind him as he approached him. It didn’t matter what condition the man was in, Harry would not let his guard down. “Let me see your hands,” he said, not knowing whether Voldemort had a wand on him. His own had been broken in the avalanche and landslide they had caused from fighting on top of the cliff they’d just brought down. When he summoned it it came to him in two parts. “Where’s your wand?” he asked him, seeing both hands open to him. _“Accio Voldemort’s wand!”_

Several carved pieces of thin wood flew into his hand. The rocks and boulders that came down with them had pulverised both of their weapons, it seemed. The cabin was visible as the misty remnants of snow cleared. It was the place he had found the Dark Lord while the villain went into hiding from the law. Having discovered some way to escape from Limbo, the dastardly man had again become a thorn in the Auror’s side. He grabbed Voldemort by an ankle, refusing to drag him the rest of the way back to the cabin with any sort of dignity. “You don’t look good, old man. I didn’t think you could get any paler than you are, but you’re giving this snow here a run for its money.”

Voldemort was unable to retort. He found himself feeling quite faint and in a great deal of pain. He groaned out unconsciously and caught the concerned look in Harry’s eyes when he looked back at him over his shoulder. A moment later he passed out before they made it to the cabin.

Harry steeled himself and pressed on despite feeling as if every bone in his body had been shattered.

* * *

“…thank Merlin you know how to brew.”

Lord Voldemort opened is eyes, finding Harry looming over him again. Having faced death once more, his own personal nemesis was the one that saved him this time. “Good morning, nurse Potter.

“Good morning, Dark Lord.” Harry adjusted the pillow behind Voldemort’s head. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” Voldemort said, feeling no pain.

“Your stores put Snape’s to shame. Who knew you were a savant at brewing and potion making.”

“I’ve been told my mother was an excellent potions maker.” For the first time since his last encounter with Potter, Voldemort felt his shrivelled heart skip a beat. “You like my stores?”

“Kept us alive…we’re healthy, even.” Harry looked them both over. All of the wounds they carried had healed. They were in tip-top shape, merely trapped by land and snow in the tiny cabin. “So I can put you in prison if we ever get rescued.”

“Awe, come on,” the Dark Lord whined. He gripped Harry by the wrist as he attempted to stand up from the side of the bed. “I escaped Limbo, you think a sodding prison is going to stop me?”

“Do you mind?” Harry yanked his hand away and stood up. He stopped in the doorway and turned back briefly. “And to answer your question, yes, for a time it will.”

* * *

Lord Voldemort tossed another log into the fireplace and sat back down on the woven rug in front of Harry. “We’re running low on firewood…and everything else.”

“I know,” Harry replied. He hugged his knees and kept his head hung low. Not in a million years could he imagine himself perishing _with_ Voldemort rather than _by_ Voldemort.

Voldemort slapped the young man’s knee. “Enough pouting, keep practising wandless spells that’ll get us out of here.”

Harry smirked as he looked up at the wraith. For the first time since finding themselves stranded in the middle of the arctic, he noticed something different about the man. He snapped his fingers suddenly before pointing and wagging the index at Voldemort. “I figured it out, ha!”

“Figured what out?”

“How you escaped Limbo,” Harry said, smugly.

“Ridiculous, silly boy,” Voldemort snapped, stopping in the middle of casting an attempted spell to sneer down at the Auror. “You’re not clever enough to figure it out.”

A giddy smile formed on Harry’s lips. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t once tried to murder me while we’ve been in this cabin.”

“I’ll have you know that if it comes down to slowly dying of starvation or eating you - I’m eating you,” Voldemort said, returning the Auror’s smirk.

Harry ignored him. “You’ve repented, haven’t you? You’re healing your soul.”

The smirk faded. Lord Voldemort turned away from Harry, unable to look him back in the eye. “You learn a lot about yourself once you die. The place shows you everything you’ve done to earn your spot there. You see it through someone else’s eyes.”

Harry tipped his head, curious. “Whose eyes did you see yourself through?”

The Dark Lord shrugged. “Yours.”

"Interesting.” Harry had always been intrigued with this man. He did not think it possible for the Dark Lord to have any sort of empathy or sympathy for anyone other than himself. “So, they set you free after taking the blame for all of the lives you’ve ruined or ended?”

Voldemort straightened his slouching posture and turned back to face Harry again. Still completely arrogant and narcissistic, he could never stop himself from boasting about how bloody amazing he was. “No, Potter, they do not set you free. They send you up if you’re good, or down if you’re bad. I merely found a way to exploit the passage before I hit the bottom.” He straightened the sleeves of his robes in dramatic fashion as the smile of superiority crept back into place. He tossed the shoe he was trying to make into a portkey with over his shoulder and moved to the front door. He grabbed something in the snow and returned to the rug, plopped down and handed Harry a bottle of beer before pulling the cork out of his own with his teeth.

Harry reluctantly took it. The cork had no seal on it. Voldemort had most likely brewed it himself during his time in hiding from the Ministry of Magic. He thanked him and set it down beside him.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake - give it to me.” The Dark Lord thrust a hand out and wiggled his fingers upward to beckon the Auror to give him back the bottle. “Honestly, you think I’m going to poison you when I’m planning on eating you? Rubbish.” He wrenched the cork out and took a hearty swig before clucking his tongue at Harry as he handed him the bottle back. “Satisfied?”

“I guess…but now you’ve put your spit all over it…” Harry took it back and swallowed a tiny sip. He swished the liquid around in his mouth, tasting it to see if he could detect anything unnatural that may have been hidden within the bitter taste. He kept his eyes on Voldemort, watching him act out a dramatic guffaw while he feigned offence. After almost a minute Harry swallowed it. “It’s alright.”

The colder it got the more they drank. Within two hours, both Harry and Voldemort consumed nearly twenty beers. Harry watched Voldemort return from having a piss outside. He took a bottle he was handed and uncorked it. “Okay,” he said in a slurred drawl as he grinned back at the Dark Lord. “The truth; you’ve shagged Bellatrix Lestrange, right?”

“Why in Mordred’s name would you ask me that?” Voldemort brought a hand up to cover his reddened collarbone, it being fully exposed from him loosening it up to free the trapped heat inside of his robes from too much ale. “There’s no time for shagging when you’re at war.”

“Sure there is.” Without skipping a beat, Harry moved on to his other guesses. “Grindelwald? Mulcibur? Avery? Dolohov? Yaxley? Am I getting hot?”

“Oh!” Voldemort turned his head away at the name ‘Dolohov’, fearing Harry might see his blushing cheeks and guilty eyes.

Harry laughed. “I knew it must have been at least one of them.” He wagged a finger at him. “What was up with you and Snape?”

“Nothing, you pervert. When I put him down it wasn’t personal, you know,” the Dark Lord confessed after several silent seconds. “He always was a loyal servant. Did anything I asked.”

Harry coughed through a snort. “You do know that he was a triple agent, right? Right? He was working for Dumbledore, spying on you to use it to his advantage.”

Voldemort sneered as he leaned in closer to Harry. “He killed Dumbledore, Potter.” He got on his hands and knees and knocked his fist on Harry’s forehead, over the now nonfunctional scar, tapping it several times to see if the interior of his skull was hollow. “Snape killed Dumbledore.”

Harry ducked the final tap and rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Because Dumbledore asked him to, you old fool. He was protecting Draco Malfoy because Dumbledore knew that Malfoy wouldn’t be able to kill him. It wasn’t in his nature, and you also knew he would fail. Albus forced Snape to kill him so Draco wouldn’t be killed by you in order to punish Lucius for his failure to get the prophesy during the battle of the Department of Mysteries.” The anger he had suppressed while being trapped together was beginning to wain. Harry scowled at Lord Voldemort. “Dumb fffff…face.”

“Quite the limited vocabulary you’ve got there, Auror.” The Dark Lord gave the young man a shove backward, tired of hearing his voice anymore. “Just shut up already.”

“You shut up.” Harry found himself crawling back to the front door to retrieve another bottle, but felt a hand close around his ankle to keep him in place.

Voldemort cringed. What if Harry was trying to leave him stranded. “Where are you going?”

Harry did not look back. He crawled in place, confused as to why he was making no progress toward the door any longer. “I’m getting another bottle.”

The Dark Lord clucked his tongue. “That was the last one. Besides, it’s too cold outside to open the door again. The sun has set.”

Harry collapsed onto the floor, too drunk to hold himself up any longer. “Listen to you with your words of wisdom. Too bad you can’t use it to get us the hell out of this cabin.” He felt himself dragged by an ankle back to the centre of the room and flipped onto his back. He opened one eye when he felt his glasses being removed. Lord Voldemort was straddling him, peering down at him. “What?”

Visions of a time long past swam through the Dark Lord’s mind. There was another time that he felt this same pang of something he could not explain that thumped in his chest when he had Potter in his clutches. “I’m freezing.” He sat straddled on top of the Auror while he rubbed his hands together to warm them up, being unsure as to what else he could do with them.

“I thought snakes were cold blooded creatures,” Harry remarked through a wrack of coughing laughter.

“I’m not a snake, you ninny, I’ve merely taken on a few characteristics of the form through experimentation and a journey of self exploration.”

Harry squinted up at the man, who, in the darkened cabin, was illuminated by the dying fire. “So you don’t lay eggs in order to reproduce? Damn, I owe Ron five Galleons.” He caught his breath, ignoring Lord Voldemort’s scowling visage hovering above him. “You at least have a…uh…are you fully intact? Or did that take on a snake’s characteristics, too?”

Voldemort’s jaw fell open. “I won’t even dignify that with an answer.” Before Harry could say something else to insult him, Voldemort pressed down on the man’s torso with his weight to knock the air from his lungs. “No - scratch that. I will dignify that. I will answer your depraved question once you answer one of mine.”

“Ask away, old man,” Harry beckoned him with both hands before they got too heavy and fell to the sides of his head. “I’m gonna close my eyes for a moment.”

The Dark Lord prodded the Auror but got no response. “Lovely.”

* * *

After groping and finding his glasses, Harry rolled onto his stomach and propped his head up on his fists to watch the Dark Lord stirring something inside a cauldron he had dangling inside the fireplace. “What are you making?”

“Brewing. You drank all of my spirits. How are we to survive without more?” Voldemort replied without looking back at the man.

Harry stood up on wobbly legs and made his way outside to relieve himself. He could feel the pulsating aura of Voldemort following him closely behind. He ignored it. The strain on his bladder was far too strong. He did not want to risk pissing himself if he started another row with his enemy. “So, uh, when will this batch be finished?”

Voldemort stood with his back to Harry to have his piss. Always the modest one. “At least a week from now. It’s cold in the cabin, might take longer to ferment but it won’t harm it. Then I distill it and it’ll be fine for consumption. The cellar is full of ingredients to make a large supply. I’ve also got some things to make a few more healing draughts and such when it comes to that. But food and firewood have been depleted. We’ll have to drink ourselves to death, it seems.”

Harry hefted his trousers up. “Quite. Well, until then I think I’ll go hunting, maybe find something for us to eat. At least find something to burn.” He was sick of being cold. No matter how warm they could get wandless warming spells to work, it was never enough heat to thaw his inner core. He feared he might be permanently frozen inside. It felt that way, at least.

“You can wear my coat,” Voldemort volunteered. It was thick with down and would protect The-Boy-Who-Lived from the elements while he searched around for resources. He would not take any chances with Harry’s life because…he…needed him in order to escape. Yes.

He beckoned Harry over to the front cupboard and pulled the coat off of a hanger, and held it up for him to inspect. “It was a gift from the Minister of Magic in Sweden. Like it?”

Harry crossed his fingers behind his back to cover his lie. The coat was ridiculous. It was felted with bright purple mohair, and the collar had a fifty-fifty mixture of white fox fur and white peacock feathers. He almost thought he saw an actual living fox residing within the fluff. “Okay.” Fearing upsetting the Dark Lord, for what reason other than having to console him, Harry accepted the coat and put it on.

* * *

As the sun set, the Dark Lord watched through the window. He had perched himself on the back of an overstuffed chair in wait for Harry’s return. Surely he would easily spot the man coming, since he was wearing that audacious garment some loser forced him to accept in front of the press. He would have laughed about conning the Auror into wearing it some more if not for the worry that overcame everything else. He set fire to the snow outside of the window again, although it always went out straight after, in hopes that Harry would be able to follow the billowing steam it produced back to the cottage.

And then it happened; a mound of purple emerged from the ice and snow. Harry trudged back to the cottage and dropped the carcass of a Diricawl onto the stoop. He flashed a smile at the Dark Lord through the window and shouted something the man could not understand. Voldemort raced for the door and threw it open. “What?”

“I said this coat you gave me to wear really did its job, or this stupid fowl I caught with my bare hands deserved everything it got.”

Voldemort pulled Harry inside and aimed him at the overstuffed chair before letting go. “You take a load off. I’ll cook.”

* * *

“Okay, I lied.” Lord Voldemort removed the plates from the table and shoved Harry back into his seat with a well-placed knee before washing the dishes and returning with a bottle of fire whiskey. “Parts of you still look somewhat frozen. I happen to enjoy fully thawed company. Drink.”

A shot-glass full of whiskey was moved into place in front of Harry.

“You might as well do as I say. I don’t have friends. I don’t play poker. I don’t make bets or deals or compromises. You are shivering so hard this cabin is vibrating. Drink it or I’ll make you drink it. Nothing else is acceptable, Mr Potter.”

Harry tossed it back. “Is there any mo-Oh…” His shot-glass was instantly refilled.

“Drink.”

“Sure.” Harry tossed it back and slammed the shot glass down on the table. “Got another, grandpa?”

“Ignoring your banter because your brain is obviously frozen.” Lord Voldemort poured another.

And another.

And more, until Harry could not remember what his middle name was anymore. “It’s something like maybe Sirius or Remus…Albus? Who the hell did my father trust? Holy shite - who am I?” He grabbed the lapels of Voldemort’s robes. He heaved in a deep breath and spoke in a profound voice. “I know my first name is ‘James’.”

Lord Voldemort took the bottle off of the table and set it on the floor. “Well, it’s actually ‘Harry’. Uh…maybe too much whiskey.”

“Oh yeah, Harry…and James is uh…he was my father, yeah.” The young man began whistling as he slumped into the overstuffed chair he’d been using to keep himself upright.

Voldemort harrumphed. “Clearly you’re skylarking. No one could get so inebriated as to disremember ones own name.”

Harry momentarily stopped whistling to try and understand what he was saying. “I’m guessing you’re telling me I’m joking as to forgetting my name, yes? You’d think, spending so much time with me, our vocabulary would somewhat plateau or something.” He began whistling again before the man could answer.

“Plateau? Do you mean I should have lowered my vocabulary standards while you raised yours up to my level? Impossible, you silly man-boy, you could never reach my heights.” Voldemort gaped at him with annoyance as the horrid whistling grew louder. “Is that something you really need to do right now? Stop that.”

Harry ignored him.

“Are you really going to make me stop you?” Voldemort asked. They felt a spark alight between them. Perhaps it was the whiskey on Potter’s part - perhaps not. He was so clearly flirting back with the man.

“Maybe I’m doing it so you’ll make me stop.” Harry’s forehead crinkled while giving the Dark Lord a charming grin.

“Is that so?” The Dark Lord paused, intrigued. “Would you like me to shut you up, Potter?”

“Sure. I’m easy,” Harry added, still trying to whistle.

“We’ll see just how easy you are.” Lord Voldemort leaned in while the attractive Auror tried desperately to keep his composure.

* * *

There was a blizzard. There was always a blizzard outside. “Stop worrying,” Harry said through a confused bout of laughter. “I can’t believe I’m standing here telling Lord Voldemort to stop worrying about me. This is some kind of sick joke.”

“If it’s a joke, someone’s taken it too far,” he replied.

“I’ve dealt with worse.” Harry told him as he prepared to venture out into the unknown once more. It was easier to believe that fate was not just something he thought about. Their stores were depleted. There was absolutely nothing left to consume or burn. “I’ve come face-to-face with a Daraliznof Freaazer for Merlin’s sake.”

“Are you quite serious? They’re like less intelligent house-elves, if that even possible.” The Dark Lord helped him with his boots and that ugly coat before escorting him to the door so he could find something for them to burn or eat. “Aim for rabbits,” he said as he nudged him out. “I do not want to have to figure out how to dress a Daraliznof Freaazer.”

Both more lithe than either had ever been, their spirits remained high despite the inevitable. The Dark Lord closed the door and hugged himself for warmth. “When it comes down to it I’ll just do him in while he’s sleeping to spare him the the pain.” He stopped, thinking long and hard about the decision he was making on Harry’s behalf. The young man deserved this small amount of dignity. The thought of losing him…of killing him now tightened around his heart. Only the thought of watching him suffer hurt far worse.

* * *

It was late. It was dark. The sun had set hours back. He had no choice; he would bundle up as best he could and follow Harry’s footsteps and pray that he wasn’t dead. Nothing else mattered. They had nothing to live for but they refused to die. Spooning together every night, at first, was a grave necessity. Now they did that every night for more than just trapping body heat.

Wrapping every piece of clothing or duvet he could find inside the cabin, he encased himself in them and exited the cabin - only to come face-to-face with Harry.

“I’ve done it!” Harry exclaimed, as he nudged the Dark Lord back into the cabin. He had icicles hanging off of his nose but his elation of the matter confused the older man.

“Where have you been and what have you done, Potter? You had me scared to death.” Voldemort pulled him into the wrappings to warm him up. Shocked, despite the frigid cold he ventured out in the man’s skin was on fire. “Merlin, what did you do?”

“I apparated!” He screamed and hugged the man back. “I got lost and desperate and I tried it and it worked!”

Voldemort held him out at arms length. “You managed to wandlessly apparate before me? I don’t believe you. Show me this instant,” he ordered.

Harry flicked his slender fingers up in the air. He disappeared and appeared on the other side of the small room. “See?”

“Bloody hell.” The Dark Lord was now frightened to try it himself again. It was a weakness of his, that of being one-upped by anyone, especially Harry Potter.

“I wonder if I can side-along apparate” Harry murmured aloud. He looked up at Voldemort, missing his worried gaze. “We could leave right now. There’s a research station I portkeyed to around 250 kilometres to the south. If we could make it there we’re free!”

“No, no, Potter,” Voldemort said, and took a step back so he could wind the large amount of material he had gathered around Harry’s wilting frame to keep him warm during his journey, fearing he might not make it. “We shouldn’t risk it. You go and get help. I’ll wait here for your return.”

“Are you sure?” Harry bit down on his bottom lip with excited nervousness. But a great bout of consternation for the wayward Dark Lord began filling his thoughts. “If I don’t make it I want you to keep trying. As I said, it’s around 250 kilometres to the south. Flick your fingers like this…” He showed the man how he did it several times.

Voldemort refused to test it himself. He hugged the man and planted a small kiss on his ice burned cheek. “You’ll make it - I know you will. Now go.”

Harry’s fingers grazed the spot where he had kissed him. He grinned brightly. “Get over here, you old fool,” he teased and pulled the man into a intense kiss in return. His head tipped back and they parted. “Try and stay safe. I’ll return as soon as possible and we’ll see about finding you a place to reside away from the rest of the world.”

Voldemort blinked. “Stay safe? Of course I’ll stay safe, you ridiculous worrywart. I’m me, remember? Eternal life is what I live for.”

“Alright, I’m going,” Harry replied, pushing all thoughts of what might happen aside. Without another word he flicked his fingers and was gone, the crackle of the spell forever resounding in Voldemort’s head.

* * *

Upon entering the cottage, having urged the other Aurors who returned with him to wait outside, Harry knew he was gone before he even opened the front door. The metaphorical fire they had ignited in the cottage had extinguished. He found a note addressed to him in meticulous penmanship. He began to chuckle as he read it to himself. His cheeks reddened as he hoped only a select few higher-ups would be required to read it, too. He pocketed it and left the cabin to inform the other Aurors that the brilliant Dark Lord had learnt to apparate himself directly after he left to get help and that he was long gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it let me knw and give me kudos, please!


End file.
